


full bodied

by indefensibleselfindulgence



Category: Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Biting, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Dismemberment, Electricity, Hand Jobs, M/M, Other, Rough Sex, Shura - Freeform, Shura Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-16 05:17:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18514666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indefensibleselfindulgence/pseuds/indefensibleselfindulgence
Summary: His Master is scared of him, and Wolf can only tangentially understand why.





	full bodied

**Author's Note:**

> canon divergence ie: shura ending but isshin doesn't kill genichiro and also me playing fast and loose with what shura are
> 
> not beta'd

He knows swords.  
  
He has ever since he was a small child without his name, he's known them. How they're made, how they sing along the air and with the strike of metal, how some drive the owner's hand to drown the metal in crimson. Before he was given his name, he would find them and sell them to soldiers or samurai or shinobi. Sometimes he would sell to liars, who gave a few extra coin to keep quiet where he found them because they would sell them off to people stupid enough to travel.  
  
Now, he has more than just Kusubimaru, that sings for him. Fushigiri thirsts different, but it still thirsts, and his dead father's sword, so massive his fingers just barely curl around the hilt, begs him for more, more, more.  
  
His Master is scared of him, and Wolf can only tangentially understand why.  
  
Well.  
  
They travel together, because he keeps his Master safe, and Master's safety is absolute. His Master cries when he thinks Wolf can't hear him and Wolf doesn't know why either.  
  
Well.  
  
His blades sing, and he slips away in the night to feed them. Feed himself, really. It's for the better this way. They can save what tiny money they have for Master's meals. Wolf feels full when his blades feel full.  
  
It's convenient.  
  
“Shura.” Samurai whisper when Wolf and Master ride into a town to find an inn. “Shura-” They scream at night when they try and hurt Master, and Wolf wets his blades on them. “Shura,” His Master whimpers in his sleep when he has nightmares.  
  
He has nightmares so much lately.  
  
They stay in a town until there is nothing more for Wolf to eat, and then they move on. He knows his Master wants to settle somewhere. Open a sweetshop, or just work out of one. But none of the ones they've seen would be something suitable for the Master. So they ride on.  
  
His skin tints redder. Just his hand, so far, just past the fingers, but it burns so brightly with heat he's taken to binding his fingers. The bandages soak through with blood that isn't his own all too frequently, but The Master started breathing so heavily when he saw it the first time, that Wolf didn't mind the inconvenience.  
  
The town they're in now is larger, and no one whispers Shura when they ride into town, too many people to pay attention to just another pare of travelers. They find an inn and their room has a window overlooking a lake. Wolf sees his Master smile for the first time in weeks.  
  
They could stay here.  
  
This could be good enough.  
  
At night, he slips out the window silently, up to the roof to find something to quench Fushigiri on, if there are any caves in the nearby mountains, when he hears a shriek further away. Not directed at him for once, at least he doesn't think so, but then that all too familiar shriek of “Shura!” and Wolf bolts in the direction, feet hitting the tiles of the roof as quietly as ever.  
  
It's on the outskirts of town when he sees it- the thing that used to be General Ashina- skin blackened from lightning burns and blades sparking as it cuts through a horde of travelers.  
  
Even at this distance, Wolf can smell the ozone that rolls off of him in waves, can feel the way the static tastes.  
  
“Shura- Shura- Shura-” It sets his teeth on edge and makes his hand burn up to the wrist. Fushigiri thrums in his prosthetic, vibrating the smaller holdings, and Wolf has to grip the ornamental lattice on the roof to keep from flinging himself at the former general.  
  
At the other Shura.  
  
But the sun rises in the sky, and even the purple flames of Fushigiri are small, he sheaths the sword and thumbs Kusubimaru's hilt instead. Just anything will do. The party of travelers lies in pieces as the Shura stands to its full height and looks around. Wolf presses down flat, trying to keep as out of the way as possible.  
  
And still, even at this distance, their eyes meet.  
  
No, his father's blade will have it.  
  
Something shockingly visceral rushes through him, and the heat in his arm burns more of his skin red, almost up to the elbow now. Just as the Shura takes a step forward, a gong rings from within the town. They both stare in its direction before General Ashina bolts towards the mountain.  
  
Wolf stands again, and it feels like all of his blood pushes against one side of his body, pushing him towards the other Shura, but he grips the lattice again and swallows. Tonight. He'll find it tonight.  
  
His Master's safety is absolute and his blades hunger.  
  
He hungers.

  
…

  
It's a full cave system.  
  
Merchants travel through it, which makes sense as to why the other Shura was hiding here- or hunting here. His father's sword drags against the walls of the cave. He's not trying to hide from it- he wants- he wants- he wants to put it into the ground and sinks his teeth into it until there's nothing left but that reeking scent of ozone.  
  
He can't hear it, can't smell it, can't pick up the taste of static in the air, but the hair on his body stands up like some part of him knows, the part that makes his arm burn red hot, that part knows that he's not alone here. So it's just a matter of which monster caves first.  
  
He steers clear of the wetter passages, mountain river runoff wetting the floors and walls, not wanting to make anything easier for the Shura.  
  
It feels different.  His mind struggles to grasp the moments he's seen General Ashina before but his prosthetic digs into his shoulder, and he knows in his bones, Genichiro stole his arm away. No wonder the drive to find him is so great, the hunger kept Wolf up the entire day, barely paying attention to Master sitting by the lake all day.  
  
He rounds tunnel after tunnel and still nothing. No light, no smoke, no blood, nothing.  
  
What does he know about Shura?  
  
Scary. They're scary. They scare his Master, anyway, and scare all the others he puts down.  
  
He wonders if the Shura picked this cave system because it wanted Wolf to get lost, wander for millions of years and suffer alone while it whisks his Master away, but the sensation of another is so near- so close.  
  
What does he know about this Shura?  
  
Lightening, sharp and crackling and cold and hot all at once. Big, but what does that matter if Wolf is faster. A sword- he saw it last night, as it cut through people like they were shiso leaves. His blades are stronger. His blades are the strongest, and they sing most beautiful for him. Skin charred black and rotting, and that doesn't seem to slow him any. Maybe Wolf could return the favor, and steal its arm too.  
  
Ah.  
  
Of course.  
  
He forgot about the bow.  
  
An arrow sinks itself into the meat of his shoulder, and he doesn't know how he missed the whistling. The arrow itself is long, and the arrowhead is jagged and when he tries to move his fingers is brushes against the muscles in his arm, so he grits his teeth and pulls it out, snapping it in half.  
  
“Shinobi-.” The Shura howls, as it knocks another arrow.  
  
Wolf runs at him.  
  
He takes it in his other shoulder and pulls it out just as he crosses the threshold into the chamber the Shura hid in. Kusubimaru howls too, as it swings through the air and catches the Shura on the shoulder.  
  
A mistake, somewhat, in retrospect, that he didn't drive it through his throat when he had the chance.  
  
The Shura bleeds red and static and it clings to Wolf's skin and clothes, and its blood is intoxicating.  
  
Blow for blow for blow until the two of them are drenched in each other, and only then does Wolf notice the cave lake behind them. Just as the Shura starts sparking against, Wolf shoves him into it, Genichiro's sword remaining in Wolf's side, the Shura flails inelegantly and falls back into the water as an arc of lightning fails to leave its fingers in time.  
  
The scream is ghastly.  
  
Wolf sits down on the shore and pulls the Shura's blade out of his side. The gash it leaves leaks lightening too, the smell of ozone making him gag. When he pulls his robes out of the way, his entire side is charred.  
  
He stands again, slowly, for his retribution.  
  
Shura are unpleasantly resilient it turns out.  
  
When he's dragged under the water, he notices two things, rather quickly. His hand burns past the elbow, and it burns hot enough to boil the water around it.  
  
He comes up for breath and for an arrow inches from his face.  
  
Ah.  
  
Forgot about the bow again.  
  
“Shura.” The Shura says, and pulls the arrow back even further.  
  
“Shura.” He echoes back, and stands, slowly. Tries to. The lake floor is slippery at best, and he almost falls on the arrow.  
  
“Could have left me alone.”  
  
“No, I couldn't have.” Not with how both of them smell now, even in the water. Even under all the ozone, that rolls off of him in waves. He has two more swords to wet, to feed.  
  
Genichiro barks a laugh and fires the arrow off anyway.  
  
It catches Wolf in the throat, and it's unsurprisingly unpleasant.  
  
“Blood of the Dragon, really is something isn't it.” The Shura whispers and Wolf pulls the arrow out and snaps it again. “Monster.” It says and spits blood into the water.  
  
“Shura.” He counters back, and shoving past him to get onto the shore. If his Master is keeping him up, what is keeping the other one up? A living storm trapped in its body? “You owe me an arm.”  
  
“Try and take it.”  
  
He leaves Kusubimaru on the shore and lets Fushigiri alight purple out of the sheath.  
  
They both fall into the water to many times to count before Wolf's foot sinks into Genichiro's shoulder, and Fushigiri sinks into the charred flesh, ripping through fat and tendon and bone, and once he has it, Wolf throws it as far into the lake as he can. Even in the dim light, he sees the water grow red around then. These robes are forfeit.  
  
He doesn't know where Sculptor is, but he knows there's no one that would give a Shura new arm.  
  
And there's satisfaction in that, finally.  
  
The lake water laps at his feet, tainted red, as he waits with his father's sword in his lap for the Shura to get back up again.  
  
The Shura juts out of the water, hair a dark veil over his face. It crawls pathetically on to the shore, falls next to where Wolf sits.  
  
“Tired?” He asks.  
  
There's no more elegance to him, not now, finally, Wolf thinks. Its ruined arm, what's left of it, rests on its chest. Genichiro shakes his head, back and forth and the sand clings to his hair. Father's sword gleams in the light of the Shura's lightening.  
  
“No-”  
  
“Hungry then?”    
  
The Shura swallows, because there is nothing that needs to be said after that. 

  
…

  
They travel together now, the three of them.  
  
The town fell through. It was a shame, really, he thought his Master could be really happy there, but two Shura were harder to try and hide then one, and Genichiro needed to eat too much.  
  
His Master was scared of the other Shura more, rarely ever leaving Wolf's side, as if expecting Genichiro to turn and devour him the second Wolf took two steps to the left. A storm seemed to follow them where ever they went too, following the tempest in Genichiro like a kicked dog.  
  
They stop in a small village and pass for people long enough to get the Master into warm, dry rooms for the night before they went to feed. It's oddly pleasant, feeding with someone else. Wolf doesn't think he's ever been friendly, ever hunted with anyone other than his father, but Genichiro is a better partner to have at his side.  
  
Genichiro's sword doesn't have a name, or if it did, Genichiro forgot it, just like his father's sword, but Wolf has become accustomed to the weight of it too. The bow thirsts too- different from their blades- and Wolf hates it.  
  
He can count on two hands the amount of times he's almost burned it.  
  
They have little games, like Wolf used to with his father, who could feed best, how many people could they bury comparatively. Wolf almost always wins, because he's faster, and he has two arms.  
  
“Are you proud of yourself?” The General asks, when he drags his father's blade over a throat that Genichiro was inches away from.  
  
“Yes,” Wolf says, and takes the few steps necessary to sink his teeth into the Shura's shoulder. Familiar iron weeps into his mouth, and it's more satisfying than any other. “Aren't you?”  
  
Genichiro pushes him away, so Wolf lets him set after the next noble while he sits in a tree and waits. The muscles in the Shura's legs are something to marvel at, the way his back hardens with every blow, even thin as he is now, the muscle is so defined.    
  
An arc of crimson drenches Genichiro but he turns back, and there's a smile, wide, teeth bared, that Wolf doesn't mind as much as he used to. He still does though- to some degree mind it- because he's not full yet, and the town they're in is too small to last. But his Master needs the rest of long travel, and if he can grant him two days of peace, it's nothing short of his duty to do so.  
  
The reason he didn't kill him is cruel. Cruel to the Shura, maybe. But kind to his Master, and nothing else mattered.  
  
They hunt together when there is something to hunt, and when there isn't, they hunt each other.  
  
So Wolf takes off, half the distance crossed with a pull of his prosthetic and tackles the Shura into the grass, jaws snapping around Genichiro's throat and pulling his head back until there's flesh in his mouth and blood soaking through his robes. Wolf takes the sword through his back, right through his liver and just barely missing his spine, pinning him rather thoroughly to the other body.  
  
A snarl rips out of both of them, in tune and undoubtedly echoing. Genichiro's one hand already tugs at his trousers and Sekiro hisses when his teeth rend the soft flesh of his neck. His face is drenched with the blood, and that only seems to give him more energy.  
  
Wolf gives as good as he gets, leaning as far as the sword in his back lets him to give a few light bites down the Shura's clavicle. They could almost be kisses, love bites, something so much more pedestrian if it didn't end with the crunch of bone in his mouth.  
  
Nothing feeds him as great as the Shura does. A real full body flavor, bone, blood, tendons, flesh. Genichiro howls from it, the noise undoubtedly reaching the village, the one thing Wolf wanted to avoid.  
  
No more sound.  
  
He kisses him on the mouth just as Genichiro gets robes open enough to prod at more sensitive flesh. They've done this before too, frenzied as they were, though usually not pinned to each other, and even then, Wolf was rarely on the receiving end of his attention like this.  
  
He lets the other Shura presses his fingers inside of him while he presses a hand down over Genichiro's chest. He can feel the storm rising up to meet him, static running between their skin that makes Genichiro hiss sharply.  
  
It's odd.  
  
He's cut him open countless times and never seen it, but it's always there. Even now, in the gap of the clavicle he left, he can't see it, but if he leans down and licks at the gash, bites more of the bone away, it'll meet him in his mouth.  
  
There's place for enjoying the Shura's flesh later, ripping the bone out whole and sucking the marrow out while the other watches, now, though, now all Wolf wants is more of the shock in his mouth. He kisses him again, still determined to achieve his blissful momentary silence, because his Master needs his rest.  
  
Genichiro presses his tongue into Wolf's mouth and actually looks surprised when Wolf bites down and yanks his head back, harsh enough to rip the organ clean off.  
  
He does taste good. Really, very truly. Nothing in the world tastes better than a Shura.  
  
Genichiro keeps his mouth open, to keep from drowning and ending their fun early.  
  
Wolf pulls the sword out of both of them and then pulls the Shura's cock out of his filthy trousers, and seating himself upon it. It burns wonderfully, a real agony, being ripped open like this. Fingers press along his back to try and find the wound of the sword. Genichiro finds it eventually, just as Wolf gets the angle right and Genichiro rips flesh off of him, placing into his mouth and swallowing.  
  
Wolf places his hands on Genichiro's thighs, burning already burned skin, and with a deep sigh turns around, facing away from him so that he could get at his back easier. Because he is nothing if not considerate.  
  
He can hear him try to keep from choking as he pulls more and more off of him- and he can hear the barely concealed moans while Wolf bounces on his cock. He can feel him twitch inside and that's intoxicating too, in a human way.  
  
With labored effort Genichiro abandons his position on his back and sits up, almost enveloping Wolf, reaching around to grasp at his cock.  
  
The blood they're coated in barely helps, but it's not like Genichiro has any spit to make the process go along smoother right now. Still, when the Shura curls his wrist in just the right way and squeezes it makes Wolf sit a little straighter, and when Genichiro rolls his hips up, it makes Wolf groan. He leans his head back on to the Shura's shoulder, so that it could lap at the wound it gave him early.  
  
He tries to mumble something, but pressed against Wolf's neck, and without a tongue it comes out as a jumbled mess. Wolf- Wolf, twists his head to kiss him- carefully.  
  
No need to give him the same opportunity.  
  
Genichiro jerks him off faster, his soft skin an excellent place to release himself and when Genichiro bites his lip hard enough to pop it open, Wolf comes with a pleased sigh.  
  
The Shura presses him down to the ground and gets on his knees to fuck into him, hard enough to rock Wolf back and forth. Yes, if he had his pick, this is definitely how he enjoyed being taken. Soaking in his own blood, hard and fast in the dirt.  
  
It felt deserved.  
  
Faster- faster- faster- he's oversensitive, over stimulated and every thrust is making him feel more and more boneless, especially when it's coupled with sparks rolling down Genichiro's chest like embers and burning out on his lower back.  
  
Genichiro comes with an attempted shout just as the heat returns to Wolf's stomach. Just like always. He tries to get off of him, clean himself up as best he can, and head to a lake or a river to finish the job but Genichiro holds his hips in place, tugging him back into his lap, slowly softening cock still inside.  
  
He reaches for the gourd Wolf wears around his waist, and Wolf doesn't care enough to stop him.  
  
After a moment he hands the gourd back, and Wolf drinks his fill too.  
  
“You're heinous.” The Shura tells him. “My tongue, really?”  
  
“You're loud.” And after a moment, “Are you going to let me go?” Genichiro shakes his head, and falls back onto the grace, dragging Wolf with him. “What are you doing?”  
  
“Playing at human.”  
  
“We're very filthy humans.”  
  
“Oh, you're playing along now?”  
  
He knows, if he really wants to get away, he could. It wouldn't be hard, just a bit of a stretch to reach any of his swords. But he can close his eyes and lay on the other monster and pretend to sleep, like the entire exchange was anything other than dinner.  
  
The night sky is large and unchanging, and he thinks he can remember the way the stars looked when General Ashina ripped his arm off.  
  
But memories are hard, and Genichiro's burned flesh is soft and inviting and easy to pretend to sleep on.  
  
They bathe in a nearby river as the sun rises.  
  
Its water has ice in it, and it takes too long to get last night's fervor off of himself and even longer to get it off of Genichiro, but they head back into town soon enough to find his Master having breakfast.  
  
He can't help but think it was a good hunt.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always encouraged and very very very appreciated
> 
> talk[ to me here](http://iamalivenow.tumblr.com/) [ or here](https://twitter.com/licotain)


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